


love (& all the other things money can't buy)

by notthelasttime



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: (sugar... momma?), Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, CEO Luna, Explicit Sexual Content, F/F, Starving Artist Crowe, Sugar Daddy, for the record: Kingsglaive Lunafreya, probably too many loving descriptions of lingerie
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-05
Updated: 2018-08-05
Packaged: 2019-06-22 07:28:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,337
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15576837
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/notthelasttime/pseuds/notthelasttime
Summary: Lunafreya is business. Every moment of her day calculated, planned, every relationship a professional agreement.So what?If the CEO of Oracle gets her kicks by buying a starving artist designer dresses and taking her out to expensive restaurants (before proceeding to fuck her senseless), why shouldn't Crowe enjoy it?It's all just for fun anyway. It's not about having a serious relationship, and it's most definitely got nothing to do with love.





	love (& all the other things money can't buy)

Crowe was, _perhaps_ , slightly in over her head.

It was everything, the location in the upscale part of town, where every building was a high rise covered in mirrored glass and the streets were wide and well-paved, the people surrounding them, designer suits and briefcases and carrying ongoing business conversations via cellphone or bluetooth. It was the coffee shop itself, modern art hanging on the walls and playing some pretentious string quartet, the kind of place that only served things that were organic and fair trade- not bad things per se, except the menu had a holier-than-thou way of shoving it in your face. That and the fact that Crowe could have spent the same amount of money on a full mean instead of a puny cup of coffee were she anywhere else in the city. It was... bougie. It was fucking bougie. 

"It's an offer, nothing more."

And then there was the woman sitting across from her. 

Back so straight Crowe didn't think it was even resting against the chair, a black blazer so seamlessly formed to her it had to be custom made, sturdy enough to hold its shape and the fabric at her shoulders forming stiff points. Patent leather stilettos on her feet, hidden under the table now, but Crowe had watched her glide in on them, heels skinny and pointed enough to injure if she stomped her foot down hard enough. Crowe had to wonder if she ever had the urge, if someone as perfect as Lunafreya Nox Fleuret ever thought about ripping off her lethal shoes and using them smashing someone's face in.

Probably not. She wasn't like Crowe, who had to fight with fists and teeth and nails. Women like Lunafreya didn't play by the same rules, they didn't even play the same game. If she had to fight- _when_  she had to fight, she could do it without ever lifting a finger, without having to raise her voice, wearing a soft and knowing smile while she ripped someone to shreds.

Crowe would do well to remember it. 

"I'm still trying to figure out what you're getting from this."

Lunafreya watched her patiently, taking in her skepticism and hesitancy, wide blue eyes and calm expression giving nothing away. She was dangerous that way, a face so serene, the kind of innocent look you were inclined to trust, no matter what was really going on in that head of hers.

"I don't have the time or the energy for maintaining relationships," Lunafreya said, down to business now, "but that doesn't mean I don't want to enjoy someone else's company," her pale pink lips curving into another one of those subtle smiles, "And I do very much enjoy having someone to dote on."

"You can't buy me," Crowe said, but Lunafreya only looked amused.

"People can't be bought."

"Yeah? I've got a list of politicians that says otherwise."

"False loyalty, nothing more. That's not how I do things."

"That sounds pretty high and mighty coming from someone that makes money off the sick and dying," 

Lunafreya was unfazed by the accusation, probably nothing she hadn't heard before, nothing she hadn't spent hours preparing for before every interview or public appearance, schooled responses memorized to come natural, all of those placating replies. Crowe knew this was the wrong tactic if she wanted to get a rise or reaction out of her, but since she'd realized the truth of who Lunafreya was there was an insatiable temptation to _pick_. No one with so much power made it to their position without doing something presumably awful.

"We're _healing_ people," Lunafreya said, spreading her hands, the perfect open book. "I take pride in my work and I am devoted to my business. You, however, need not involve yourself in anything you wish not to. As I said- it's an offer. A mutual agreement. I'm not pressuring you to say yes when you have obvious reservations."

"Why me?" Crowe asked, the same question that kept popping in her head since the start of this conversation. She stared at Lunafreya, the real thing in front of her again and not just some blurred imitation reconstructed from memory, the imagine that kept crossing back and forth in her mind in all the hours leading up to now. Crowe couldn't pin her down, she just stared back, thoroughly impenetrable.

"I liked your painting," she said, as if it were that simple, and Crowe couldn't help but scowl. Lunafreya laughed, light and airy, and tried again. "I find you interesting, and you seemed to appreciate my taking care of you the other night." Crowe wished the double meaning of the words weren't enough to make her face feel hot. "I had reason to believe you might be interested."

"You mean you know I'm broke," Crowe said, and she watched Lunafreya tilt her head to the side."So what, you're gonna start paying my rent just to have someone on-call to warm your bed?"

If Lunafreya was fazed, she didn't show it. "I don't plan to condescend to you or hold finances over your head. I enjoy indulging people in things normally out of their grasp. This is not an equal exchange of money for sex. I am looking for companionship, someone whose presence I enjoy."

"But with sex."

"If you're agreeable, yes."

"Without the hassle of keeping a real girlfriend."

Lunafreya shifted in her chair, leaning forward slightly. "If you're uncomfortable, we stop. If you start wanting more from a relationship, we stop. For any reason at any time, say the word and we stop. _If_ , however, things are going well," she chose her next words carefully, Crowe could tell from the deliberate way she spoke them, "and you feel there are other ways for me to... spoil you, we can change the terms of the arrangement."

Crowe thought on it, silent in her consideration. Talking Lunafreya into paying off her student loans in exchange for some weird sexual power play didn't seem like such a bad idea considering she had $32.21 currently in her bank account. Libertus would tell her she was being stupid and selling out, sleeping with the enemy. But when she'd first tumbled into Lunafreya's bed less than a week ago, Crowe hadn't know who she was- _what_ she was.. And they had fun together- fun of the mind-blowing orgasmic variety. Having the chance to fuck Lunafreya on the reg without any sort of obligation... it was tempting. And it wasn't like Crowe was looking for a serious relationship for herself anyway. Real relationships were nothing but a breeding ground for problems. She fiddled with cardboard sleeve on her cup before taking a sip.

"How's your coffee," Lunafreya asked.

"It's good," Crowe said, and not even a lie. "Just don't ever ask me to come back here again."

Lunafreya laughed, quieter than before, but genuine, the smallest taste of the person hiding under that persona, "This place is awful, isn't it."

"Then why the hell did you bring me here?" Crowe was doing her best to sound indignant but it was hard when she was holding back laughed herself, the same way she couldn't make herself look offended instead of amused. 

"Call it curiosity," Lunafreya said, eyes glowing with restrained mirth, but the moment was short lived when she glanced down at the silver watch clasped to her wrist. "I'm afraid our time is up," she said while standing, "Think it over, that's all I ask. You'll hear from me soon enough."

"You could just give me your number," Crowe said, feeling bold. Lunafreya gave her reply from over her shoulder, heel clicking as she walked towards the door.

"What fun would that be?"

 

 

 

 

 

 

" _Honey, I'm home!_ "

Crowe's voice echoed off the walls of her empty studio apartment as she kicked off her boots. Maybe she should get a dog. Or a cat. As it was the only other living things here were the snake plants and devil's ivy she hadn't yet managed to kill. She flopped down onto her old brown couch (rescued from the side of the road), and looked at the clutter around her; the dishes on the counter and the clothes on the floor, tubes of paint and brushes littering the space in the corner of the room that served as a studio, palette still tacky with wet paint and a jar of dirty water sitting open on the table. That was probably some major health code violation. Crowe sighed, let her head crash back into the cushions. So maybe no pets then.

She put her feet up on the coffee table, one crossed over the other, and spotted the business card still sitting there. A relic from the morning after, just Lunafreya's full name embossed on thick, textured paper, her titled printed underneath- CEO, Oracle Health Solutions. No contact information, no business address, no phone number. A hand written note underneath in smooth cursive; _I'll be in touch_. 

Crowe had done her research.

The most infuriating part of this whole thing was that on paper Lunafreya came up clean. No scandals, no suspicious spending or funding questionable endeavors, no business associations with the usual scum of the earth corporations that otherwise occupied Insomnia. There was a brief personal background of her on the Oracle website, a sensationalized sob story of a sickly childhood in Tenebrae, a near fatal injury to her closest friend when he was 8, the tragic accident that resulted in the loss of her brother's arm. And as with any good inspirational story, Lunafreya had taken that misfortune and used it as motivation for the greater good, a joint business for innovative healthcare run by herself and her brother, with branches in Insomnia and Tenebrae.

There were no shortage of pictures of Lunafreya visiting the sick in some ugly white dress, looking every bit the imitation patron saint of medicine she paraded herself as. Pictures breaking ground for the Oracle hospital, then again at the grand opening, pictures at the center for mental health she helped fund, pictures of her with the architects and planners opening a nursing home, pictures of her writing big fat checks to charity, for the poor, the homeless, and of course, the ill and ailing. Lunafreya's funds were a nonstop cycle of charitable donations and investments in promising medical breakthroughs. The harder Crowe looked for a flaw, the more perfect Lunafreya appeared, which made Crowe all the more dead set on the idea that it had to be an act. No one was so magnanimous. Especially not someone so damn rich.

She wished she had known who Lunafreya was when they'd first met, that she'd been on her guard and in the know from the start. Then again, knowing would have meant she never would have accepted her offer for drinks, never would have spent the night... wouldn't have the choice to make now- become Lunafreya's plaything? Or let this whole thing disappear.  

It was all chance and circumstance. 

Crowe had been commissioned by the city to paint a mural. It was normally the kind of public funded art that she was all about, bringing something imaginative to every corner of Insomnia, not just for the kind of people that had the time, money and interest to make it to the art museum. Except this particular mural was to be painted in the financial district. The financial district filled with modern architecture and the newest building projects, the place-that-needed-public-art-the-least financial district. Well, _whatever_ , Crowe thought as she agreed, and sent in sketches to be approved, all the kind of meaningless, colorful, unprovocative art that they were probably looking for. A job was a job. Even if Libertus had given her an exasperated look when she told him about it. ( _Hypocrite_ , she'd said. He was doing welding and metal work for a studio that made those big public sculptures for parks and business courtyards, shipped out all over the country, and all other artists' designs. _Hey, I'm sticking it to the man, even if he doesn't know it_ , Libertus said back, and Crowe had rolled her eyes. Burning obscenities onto the interior of all those sculptures, while satisfyingly humorous, didn't actually change anything. She supposed they all had to make themselves feel better somehow). 

Birds flying free through the open door of a cage. It was the design that was decided on, how oh so very uninspired, but _whatever_ , she was getting paid for it and that was more than could be said about the art she usually made. And Crowe _liked_ painting birds. Was the affinity for them due to her namesake, or was it only so fitting because she naturally loved birds? She didn't know, and the question felt like asking- which came first, chicken or egg?

It took some wrangling to get a crew together. Libertus was too busy (or rather, "too busy") to help out, and Nyx was busy but he was _actually_ too busy. At least Libertus did lend Crowe his pickup for the occasion so she could haul around the paint and ladders. In the end she talked Pelna into helping (with minimal bribery and only a few threats) and Pelna helped her put pressure on Luche. _Crowe, I'm a graphic designer_ , he'd said when she cornered him with a plea for help, acting like having to paint a mural was some kind of attacked on his sensibilities, and to which she replied, _you still went to art school, shut the fuck up_.

Their canvas was the bare side of an old brick building, one of the last of it's kind in the district, because gods forbid the businessmen running to and fro have to deal with such an eyesore. It was situated across the street from the impressive piece of architecture that was Oracle headquarters, something Crowe had paid little attention to at the time. 

At least it went quick enough, a little over a week and the image came together, even with a sporadic work schedule between the three of them. No one around had seemed to pay them any mind as the mural progressed, which was why it came as a bit of a surprise to find that they had gained an audience. 

Taking a step back to admire the work and take a few photos on her phone, Crowe had to reluctantly admit, the mural wasn't terrible. Uninspired and pedestrian, maybe, but not _bad_. Maybe even worth sticking in her portfolio, for the refreshing color scheme, if nothing else.

"You actually going to help us pack up or what?" Pelna called from the truck while Crowe took more pictures. She flipped him the bird, but came back over to help nonetheless. It was the least she could do, considering that they'd come through in a pinch.

"For the record, however much they paid you for this, it wasn't enough."

"You're godsdamned right," Crowe said, laughing while she helped Pelna make room in the back of the truck. Luche walked up behind them, hauling along the rest of the paint. He only caught Crowe's attention when he let out a low whistle.

A row of black cars pulled up and lined in front of the building across the street. Cars worth more money than Crowe would ever make. 

"Looks like the important people have arrived," Pelna said, and right on cue the tall glass doors at the front of the building opened, letting through a group of suits. Most of them filed into waiting cars, but a small group broke off and began crossing the street.

"Don't look now, but here comes trouble," Luche said, so of course Crowe and Pelna immediately started staring (and also both pointedly ignored Luche murmuring _for fuck's sake_ ). They were making a direct line for the truck, and as much as Crowe believed that the mural couldn't be the final destination, what else could they be walking too? Maybe they were unhappy with it, or thought Crowe had just been out here painting without actual permission? That's the kind of thing the rich and entitled did, anyway, heckled and reprimanded people who they thought were in the wrong. 

There was a man taller than anyone Crowe had ever seen, his suit looking a little too tight across a massive chest, and next to him a boy that seemed half his size, tied loose and sleeves rolled up, carrying a camera. Just behind them, hands shoved in his pockets, another boy with dark hair falling in his face. 

And trailing behind the rest, a woman with blonde hair and wide blue eyes, in a structured sleeveless dress a deep shade of midnight blue, floating effortlessly forward, balanced on a pair of dangerously high nude pumps. Crowe couldn't walk around like that in heels. There was something memorizing to her about the people that could.

"You've gained some admirers," the woman said when she was within earshot, walking directly to Crowe, "they've been watching you work all week, I'm glad to see it's finally come together. Are you the artist?" 

Crowe nodded, not quiet trusting what might come out of her mouth, and the woman held out her hand, "Lunafreya. A pleasure." It was enough to get her voice working, Crowe introducing herself and grasping Lunafreya's hand; soft skin, a firm handshake. 

Introductions were made all around- Gladiolus, Prompto, Noctis, all shaking hands in turn. Prompto, holding up his camera had asked to take a couple shots, with or without Crowe in the frame and offered to send them to her, no double a better alternative to the pictures on her phone. As Prompto started snapping away she fished in every pocket for a business card with her contact info (why the fucking hell had she spent so much money printing those cards when she never had them on her). Luche was doing his best to schmooze ( _Luche Lazarus, good to meet you, I specialize in graphic design, here's my card_ ) and Pelna mostly seemed half amused and half dumb-struck, probably ready to text Libertus at the first chance he got, _man you won't fucking believe this_.  

Lunafreya was polite, asking questions about her art and her process, and after their oddball group had been standing on the sidewalk making small talk, she said, "We happened to be celebrating the end of a project of our own tonight. Would you like to join us for a few drinks?"

Crowe felt Luche's eyes boring into the back of her head, no doubt salivating at the chance to network, but all the was concerned about was Lunafreya. The chance to talk to her more, and hear the way that pretty accent of hers made the words roll so smooth off her tongue. So without hesitation Crowe, of course, said yes. 

"You can ride with me, if you'd like. I want to hear more about your art," Lunafreya said as Pelna and Luche piled into the pickup, ready to follow the line of black cars to wherever they were being taken.

"We're not too underdressed, are we?" Crowe asked, looking at the outfits of the others, and Lunafreya laughed and slipped her arm through Crowe's to lead the way to her car, and Crowe caught just a taste of her perfume, the smell of morning dew on white flowers.

"Trust me," she said, "no one will say anything if you're with me."

Lunafreya had her own private driver. 

Crowe felt awkward at first, in the back of such a nice car with a woman she'd only just met, but Lunafreya's presence was soothing, as was the natural way she kept the conversation flowing, a diplomat used to new acquaintances.

Then came the bar, blowing Crowe's expectations out of the water as Lunafreya led them inside, dim lit and looking more like a club, and most definitely the kind of swanky place that was way out of her price range. But Lunafreya casually picked up on her unease, made a point of starting a tab on her card for the whole table making it clear that she was footing the bill. Whatever Crowe had been expecting, this was different. Different as Prompto spoke to Pelna about his amateur forays into photography, and Gladiolus, after shrugging off his suit jacket, asked Crowe how long she'd been in the city ( _I used to know a girl from Galahad_ , he'd said and winked). Even Luche was on his best behavior, pulling out all the charm and none of the usual snark, and alcohol loosened them all, conversations comfortable as wildly different as they all were.

And Lunafreya watching it all, sitting beside Crowe. 

Luche and Pelna took off, realizing they were late returning Libertus's truck. And as Crowe reluctantly made to leave with them, Lunafreya's hand stilled her leg under the table. "You're more than welcome to stay," she said, "my driver can get you home." And so they ordered another round of drinks.

Later that night, tipsy and warm, Crowe climbed into the back of Lunafreya's car once again, more comfortable this time, or maybe she'd just had enough to drink so as not to care. They were sitting close, knees knocking when they didn't need to be and Lunafreya leaned into her when she spoke. 

"We'll take you home, unless..." her voice dropped lower, only so barely perceptible, "you'd like to join me in my flat for another drink."

Crowe, stupid and dazed and always blinded by something pretty had said, "Yes."

Lunafreya's flat turned out to be a top floor penthouse, full of floor to ceiling glass windows and the kind of furniture Crowe thought only existed in home décor magazines. The luxury of it all would have been enough to make her head spin, at least if her head wasn't already so filled with Lunafreya. 

"Beer? Wine? Champaign?" Lunafreya threw her a cheeky look as they walked inside, like a dare to make Crowe say out loud what they both wanted. 

"I had something sweeter in mind," Crowe said, stepping a little too close.

"Good," said Lunafreya, before she captured Crowe's mouth with her own. 

The kiss was anything but sweet, not with the demanding way Lunafreya pulled her in, soft tongue pushing forward, bringing Crowe in deep. She walked Crowe back to the bedroom, barely breaking the kiss to do so, and Crowe felt warm hands glide up along her sides, under her shirt, pushing it off over her head. The clasp of her bra was next, coming undone before Crowe even realized Lunafreya's hands were on it, and those hands skirted over her chest, cupping her breasts and teasingly pulling at her nipples. But that was short lived too, and Lunafreya was on to the next, tugging open the closure of her jeans, wasting no time pushing Crowe's pants down her hips. 

"Get these off," she said, running a finger along the elastic band of Crowe's panties, "and lay back on the bed."

Crowe did as she was told.

As she laid herself down, Crowe kept her thighs together, some odd sense of modesty in being the only one undressed. It didn't last long though, as at the foot of the bed, Lunafreya pulled off her dress with the practiced ease of someone used to clasping themselves in, doing up their own buttons, zippers, putting on their own jewelry. The self-sufficient display of the woman that lives alone.

Unveiled was the expensive lingerie, sheer tulle trimmed with dark blue lace, a dainty little thong to match. Crowe could see pink nipples through the netted fabric, she'd see everything if Lunafreya bent over or spread her legs, she might as well have been naked, even with all the straps and lace, but somehow this was better. She was still wearing her heels. 

"No need to be shy," Lunafreya said, looking coy and kneeling down as she pushed Crowe's legs apart, putting her on display. Finger tips trailed up the inside of her thigh, anticipation enough to make her tremble, heart beating fast as Lunafreya stopped just short of where she was aching. Instead she licked her lips, throwing a final playful look in Crowe's direction before she leaned in. 

Lunafreya's mouth on her cunt felt like heaven. She tried to bite back a moan, tongue licking up the length of her slit before gently prodding her clit, and Crowe arched her back as Lunafreya fell into an unsteady pattern. A finger dipped inside her, then a second, and Crowe was wet and desperate for it, rocking her hips up against Lunafreya's mouth, following the rhythm of thrusting hand. 

Crowe came fast, eyes pinched closed and shuddering against the bed, louder than she meant to be, mouth forming incoherent words. Lunafreya eased off, careful of Crowe's oversensitive nerves, gently slowing her fingers and pulling her mouth away. As Crowe caught her breath she felt Lunafreya move again, carefully massaging around her clit again, using her labia as a buffer. Crowe moved her hips again, already feeling the arousal build, and Lunafreya made quick work of her, giving her another orgasm before she'd barely recovered.

It left Crowe gasping, completely spent and cunt still twitching. And _finally_ Lunafreya dropped her panties, crawled up over Crowe. 

"We're not finished yet," she said, knees on either side of Crowe's head. And as Crowe looked up at her, pale skin parting into a pretty pink pussy, swollen and wet with arousal, she thought that maybe, _maybe_ she'd been wrong. Maybe Georgia O'keeffe had been on to something with all those vaginal flower paintings all along.

Crowe grabbed her by the hips and tugged her down onto her mouth, and above her Lunafreya moaned. 

Back in her apartment, days later, Crowe turned Lunafreya's business card in her hands, around and around and around. What was the harm in having a little fun, in letting herself indulge, just for _once_. It was an agreement. A mutually beneficial relationship. 

It was, unfortunately, the decision she had known she would make all along. 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ~~i hate the vagina flowers. i respect them but i hate them~~


End file.
